Saturday Night Special
by DreamChaser99
Summary: One shot. Based off Conway Twitty's Saturday Night Special song. What if a Pawnshop Broker tried to cheat someone while a old, worn war hero was there.


**Hey, so this is my first Transformers story. I apologize if something is wrong in advance. Helpful criticism is appreciated.**

 **\--On with the Story!**

 ** _Oh, a Saturday night special_**

 ** _Is an easy thing to buy_**

 ** _All you got to be is twenty-one_**

 ** _Or fifteen if you lie._**

 ** _Just hand the man money_**

 ** _And if some ones gotta die_**

 ** _The broker in the pawnshop_**

 ** _Won't even blink an eye._**

It was a bad area of town; the ghetto part of town as the humans liked to say. He came to a halt before a well-known pawnshop, that cool Iacon weekend evening. The broker there was known for dealing in almost anything. He was known to pay for something that caused you misery and sell someone something that had caused the original owner pain. An old mech sporting a chartreuse color scheme and standing at roughly 25 feet tall, stood outside its door, debating. He was built sturdily and there was a ragged medic symbol on his shoulder. His dingy blue, almost grey, optics that were once a vibrant cerulean blue, looked back and forth before he entered the pawnshop. His paint was a dingy chartreuse that hadn't been taken care of for years.

Slipping in behind him was a slightly smaller teal and white femme who was clutching a box tightly. The old mech made his way to the counter and looked down at the pistols that were displayed, his scanners, once the envy of many a medic back during the civil war, registering the femme with eyes that were dark and mysterious from some private misery, as she waited behind him.

The broker came over, a tall, ugly green and orange mech with cold red eyes. The mech pointed towards a pistol and the broker removed it from the case and handed it over so the mech could look it over. The former medic, retired a few years after the war, cast his eyes over the pistol and nods. The broker grins and the mech could see that twinkle in his greedy eyes was saying that his loss would be the broker's gain.

"It'll be 50 Shantix. It'll be a steal."

The mech looked at him and in a voice that had once rang through the halls of the Autobot bases in anger over a prank, wrench following speedily after the voice to impact on the unfortunate prankster, murmured quietly.

"Throw in one bullet and you got yourself a deal."

As he handed the cash over and the gun with a single bullet loaded in to the chamber was passed to his hand. He lowered the weapon and magnetized it to his leg in a makeshift subspace holster. Nodding to the broker, he turned, and his eyes connected with the eyes of the femme behind him.

A spark of recognition ran through the two of them and he nods to the her as her name came easily. Moonracer, one of Elita One's trusted soldiers. she gave a weak smile as they passed. The late Autobot CMO caught sight of the jewel in her hand and looked away. It was a bonding jewel, given from one Bondmate to another. No one would part with it, unless something had happened between the couple. He had just made it to the door when he heard the broker speak.

"Seven Shantix, nothing more."

He straightened from a slouch as he heard her start to cry as the Broker took the gem. His hand rested in the holster, pistol gripped in white knuckled fingers. He was going use that one bullet to end his life for his Bondmate had just walked out on him.

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

 _He stared in horror at her. He rebooted his audios as she repeated what she had just said._

 _"Ratchet, we are through. We cannot work out. There is someone else for me."_

 _He tried to convince her, but his pleas fell on deaf audios. He watched she walked away and saw the new CMO run up and spin her around. As the other mech kissed her cheek, Ratchet looked away in pain. He hadn't been enough for her, his position as a senior surgeon, no longer holding the same power as his former position as Optimus Prime's CMO._

He was once somebody's Bondmate as was she. He had quit his job shortly after his Bonded had walked out on him and broken the bond and taken to minding his own business. But this time, he could not find it in him to walk away. The price the Broker was quoting her just wasn't making sense and Ratchet knew that he had to stay.

He turned back towards the counter and the Broker caught his stare. Ratchet's eyes were icy and cold, hand in the subspace holster, tightly gripping the pistol. The broker's face paled to a pasty version of his revolting color scheme as he correctly interpreted the once renowned medic's stare. He quietly spoke, hand gripping the pistol tightly.

"How much is your life worth?"

Ratchet knew that he probably wouldn't have been able to follow through on the threat due to his coding, but the Broker didn't know that. The Broker, slowly and carefully, reached over and opened his drawer. For that simple bonding jewel, he paid 2000 Shantix more.

 ** _That Saturday night was special_**

 ** _Even though it wasn't planned_**

As they walked out of the pawnshop, Moonracer slipped her hand in his. They crossed a bridge and Ratchet paused just long enough to toss the pistol into the air. It sailed away as he looked at her.

"Ever been to Praxus?"

A smile lit her face as she leaned against his chest.

"I think I'd love it there."

 ** _Oh, a Saturday night special_**

 ** _Is an easy thing to buy_**

 ** _All you got to be is twenty-one_**

 ** _Or fifteen if you lie_**

 ** _But there's a pawnshop in the city_**

 ** _That used to deal in everything_**

 ** _Ha, but you can't buy a pistol there,_**

 ** _You can't hawk your wedding ring..._**


End file.
